The Julius Deception
by Tryptophan
Summary: [OD Spoilers] What really happened to the Commander after E37. On his return to Haven, Root must confront all manner of scary things such as wayward helmets, gripper clamps, and truffles. No ghosts, pure logic. [HollyRoot]
1. Lost in the Ether

The Julius Deception

(or, "A Factual Description of What on Earth Happened to the Commander")

_A true account of the fate of one Julius Root, based on various facts given in 'The Opal Deception.' This story takes place after the explosion in E37. All will be explained…_

"They are shockproof, fire resistant, invisible to radar...It's a flying clinic."

Foaly, The Opal Deception p.71

* * *

It was tricky to regain consciousness. The other mental capacities were also slow in returning, but the one he had to admit hurt the most was consciousness. Whether it was because he suddenly became aware of all the pain trickling through his body or because he had been fervently hoping that he would not have to deal with the waves of discomfort he was experiencing, he knew not. One of the few matters that his brain _was_ being quite clear about was not to open his eyes. He could already sense the slow and steady pulse in his sore flesh and had no desire to see the actual damage firsthand. At least this way he could pretend that it wasn't serious.

But that wasn't working now either. Tire and unexplainable fatigue spread into every vein and stretched within his lungs when he drew breath. A good, long, hacking cough did nothing to remedy the problem, only reminding him that the fungus cigars had not really been such a bright idea. A weight seemed to descend upon him as he struggled not to fall prey to the grasping fingers of sleep that were neatly coiling themselves around him. At times like these, retaining consciousness was…something. Blearily, he tried to complete the thought. Something…important. Yes. That was it. But why…? What had they said back at the Academy? Important things had to do with…with what? With survival. Good. Keep thinking, he told himself. As long as you think…

Think what? …No, not that. Survival. Think survival. Right. To live was not…to die. One must find…something...to keep awake…

"You have broken six ribs." A familiar voice piped cheerily in his ear, jarring him from his comatose state.

Commander Julius Root moaned, or rather, would have moaned had his chest allowed it. The noise that he ended up producing was little more than an upheaval of shaky breath. It served to dislodge the numbness from his appendages, causing a ripple of discomfort in the process. There was one good thing that came of it: the commander noticed that the surface beneath him was not the hard flooring of E37, but a remarkably soft place. Instead of having grateful thoughts like most normal people who survived an undeniably lethal event, the only item that seemed to pass through his mind was: why couldn't he just die in peace without an annoying voice yelling at him?

A flash of memory flew back to him, but as quickly as it came, he found that it soon departed. It did not feel pleasant. Perhaps he wasn't…He tried to take hold of the memory again to no avail, as he was disrupted from his thoughts by a voice chirping into his ear.

"You are recommended to see a medical warlock immediately. Gosh, I don't know why they have me doing this. It's not like anyone goes around and breaks six ribs." His first instinct was to remark that broken ribs weren't _that_ uncommon for him, and would have told whomever was talking that, had the voice not been a pre-recorded message. Should he ever see the script writers for the helmet commands again, he decided he would have to yell at them extra loudly. But that would be for later. Now, he needed to figure out what his status was. Certainly back in E37 there were no comfortable spots like the one he was face-down on, which meant that he wasn't in the chute. The idea that he might be held captive had more than once presented itself and Root dreaded it being true more and more with each moment. He needed to get a look.

He brought focus back into his eyes long enough to notice that quite a few spots on his suit seemed to have melted, and his magic was no longer welling within him to heal them. Oh, D'Arvit. So the pictures of exploding rock and fire racing around in his head weren't only dreams. Root noted that the softness beneath him was grass, and would have wondered how he had ended up on plant-life, but the conversation was showing no signs of stopping. The voice speaking appeared strikingly familiar; he could have sworn that he had heard it before. His first guess was Holly, as it was feminine-sounding, but as the recognition hit him, he identified the speaker as none other than…

"Corporal Frond, will you please just say the lines written on the sheet?" came the sound of an indignant centaur, "We don't have enough of the budget left to redo this taping."

Annoyed, Root grunted to his helmet, "You do, you ungrateful pony. Don't go blaming me for your expensive inventions." Another memory filtered through Root's hazy mind. Hadn't there been something new and incredibly money-consuming that the centaur had just told him about? He pondered on that for a few moments, then recalled that he was livid about Foaly and lost his train of thought. It was one thing for Foaly to complain about the budget to his face, but to do so over a recorded voice message in his own helmet was uncalled for. But the tape was not done yet.

"Hey, Holly!" squeaked Frond, "Why don't you try this? I'm getting bored."

Foaly's voice cut in again, "Corporal, please! I need to bother Julius about the lack of sufficient tinfoil in the Ops. Booth soon. Can you get on with it and finish the recording?" Then, "Hello, Holly."

Holly. Wherever had she gotten to? Root craned his neck as much as it would allow him to and surveyed the area.

"But I'm sure that Holly could do it so much better! Besides, I want a break. I just read off all those dull place names for your new map system. " Here she switched to her serious voice, "'London: Fifty-three miles from your current location.' Or 'Japanese whaler. Approach with caution.' Can't Holly do this one?"

A pause. He abandoned his search. Wherever condition or location Captain Short was in, she definitely was not here.

"Well, what are the chances that good ol' Julius will hear this?" Foaly gave in to Lili's whining voice.

The commander attempted a weak laugh, causing a thin trickle of blood to escape his lips. He cursed faintly. Holly had called him Julius a little while ago…when had that been? Then, his mind ached with remembrance of the explosion, the countdown, Koboi, and Scalene's trap. Holly. Had she left like he had told her to? He put his head down. No Holly anywhere, which could be good or very bad. He concluded that trying to figure out the fate of his officer was dangerous to his emotional stability at the moment; thus, he opted instead to realize that somehow he had gotten out of the chute, and had not been noticed by anyone yet. And that made sense. He wouldn't be noticed by anyone…what had the pony said?

Foaly had by now instructed Holly how to use the recording system. "Go for it, fly-girl."

Root held what little of his breath remained in anticipation of hearing her voice again. Snatches of their conversations floated in his head, unwilling to dissipate. If there was any person that Julius Root wanted to hear at this point, it would have to be Captain Short. Any sign that she might be safe, or at the very least still living, was more than welcome. Holly actually sounded quite good as the voice in his headset, he though absent-mindedly.

"Hello, you have broken an undetermined number of ribs-"

"Six!" hissed Frond.

"-and are probably not even conscious at this time, but we here at Police Plaza think you need some help-"

"And even though we can do nothing to help you as this is only a recording-" Foaly interrupted. The microphone was snatched away again.

"-healing yourself is of the utmost priority. Concentrate your magic on your ribs, or see an experienced medical warlock as-"

Lili again: "Poor guy. It can't be fun having six broken ribs."

"No kidding, Corporal," Foaly agreed, "I'm sure whomever it is appreciates your sympathy, though." Whomever it was did not, and wanted Holly's voice back quite a bit.

"-it is in the best interests of your health to do so. Your survival-"

"Really ought to matter more to us." Finished the centaur, "Sorry about that."

A sigh resounded in the helmet as Holly began again.

"Whomever you are, do your best to come back to Police Plaza in one piece."

Then silence. Root supposed that Foaly had decided that it made a good enough ending message and stopped recording. That was a rather odd statement for Holly to make. Not that he wasn't expecting her to care about her fellow officers- Captain Short had more than proven her worth in that regard already. If he got out of this mess, he'd head straight to the Plaza. Holly was bound to come back there eventually, and when she did, he'd be there…

Finally, he gave up the effort and patiently waited for sleep to consume him.

It didn't though.

"D'Arvit."

As his body was taking its time in dying, the commander elected to attempt to sit and occupied himself with figuring out how exactly he'd survived Koboi's explosion. The sitting part was taking too much out of him, so he elected to recline on his side instead. He vaguely recalled something Foaly had said about suits…

That had been it, hadn't it? Foaly's wonder suits. The budget-eating suits that had saved his life and sucked the LEP funds so dry that he was left with strange recordings in his helmet. Root recalled something about them being fireproof, and checked his own suit. The same scorches met his cloudy vision, and in a couple spots the micro-fiber even seemed to be melting. Rolling his eyes, the commander sighed. Fire-proof indeed.

Yet, he couldn't completely discount Foaly's contribution. He was still breathing, although with some difficulty, and that was considerably better than the alternative. Ever the strategist, Root began to calculate his next moves with great care. He would need to find an acorn fast and perform the Ritual. Holly would be the next priority. The last words of the recording rang in his head, and he felt an involuntary urge to smile. If there was any hope at all for him to find Holly alive, then he would. Strange, he mused, after all that had happened it hadn't stopped him from being willing to do anything for her. To Root, Holly was his last chance at something he had given up when he accepted the position of commander. And now, as the few threads that held this dream together began to fray and snap, he redoubled his efforts to hang onto them. If she was alive, he would find her.

And then something extraordinary happened. For perhaps the first time in his career as commander of the LEPrecon, Root was contemplating raising his techie's budget. Foaly may have been beaten by Koboi's interference with their communications equipment, but it had been he who held the ace in the hole. Though Koboi had a scheme planned, Haven was at stake, and one of the people who mattered most to him was missing, Julius Root almost felt like smiling. Foaly had won.

Then, just at the point when Root ought to have lapsed back into sleep, a voice once more sounded in his helmet. This time, it was not as amusing as the previous message had been.

"You've fractured your collar-bone. Your lungs are unhealthy. They exhibit signs of severe deterioration most likely caused by smoking. The arteries near your heart are clogged. You…"

Root swore again. Damn the centaur.

* * *

_Author's Note:_

Here's my first go at an AF story. The main basis of this is that Root never died, and I'll get into what happens to him more in the next chapter. I'm just taking what Mr. Colfer wrote in the book, and presenting you with what went on behind the scenes.

Reviews greatly appreciated! 


	2. Drops of Rain Fall All Over

The Julius Deception

Or, "A Factual Description of What on Earth Happened to the Commander"

"The wings are built into this suit. A completely retractable whisper deisgn, a brand new concept in wing construction."

-Foaly, The Opal Deception, p. 71

* * *

Julius Root did not enjoy waking to the cold sprinkles of rain upon him and Lili Frond's perky voice. It reminded him that he was not, as he had been trying to convince himself, at his own house back in Haven and only dreaming the strange scenario up. As those who have been following the story thus far know, this was sadly not true. One beneficial effect of the rain was that it dulled the hurt of his burns, making quite a good natural anesthesia. There were no beneficial effects of Lili Frond.

"You have minor burns on your hands, arms, legs, chest,…"

And then the voice went on and on, describing the other not-so-tasteful places, and then the major burns and their appropriate treatment. It had been like this ever since he woke up. His best guess was that Foaly had rigged the helmet only to spurt out information when the brain waves of the wearer indicated consciousness; yet, as he was a heavy sleeper, they could have easily continued unnoticed while he dozed. Burnt or not, though, he knew that he eventually had to wake up and put his plan into action.

Following another inspection of his surroundings, he came to note that the ground was quite soft from the recent rain that had fallen and was still falling. This kind of soil would be ideal for planting, if he could just get to an ancient oak in time…He rationalized that he was somewhere near Paris, but offhand was not aware of any sites that would serve his purpose. In an inventive move, he attempted to call the Plaza using all the new (and no doubt hideously expensive) communications equipment that Foaly had installed in his suit. No response, which undoubtedly meant that the communication circuitry was fried. He sighed. Not that he'd been expecting that to work anyway. The pony's technology could only be counted on for so long, he reasoned. After all, just look at what was going on with Frond:

"The tissue near your lungs…"

It really did just come down to a fairy, his wits, and his magic. Unluckily for Root, his wits were at their end with Corporal Frond in his ears and magic was something that he did not have too much to boast about.

To keep his rapidly dwindling morale up, he reassessed the situation: he was a very tired fairy with no magic to speak of, the suit he wore was malfunctioning from the heat in E37, he could talk to no one but Corporal Frond chattered incessantly to him, the entire fairy world would probably believe him dead, and he had six ribs broken. Well, he'd been through worse. At least there weren't any gripper clamps involved this time. As much as he respected Captain Short as an officer, he wished she had chosen to rescue him from the flare somewhat less crushingly. Though, he conceded, she always _did_ manage to take his breath away- sometimes literally, but that was beyond the point.

Frivolity aside, matters did look grim. He was badly injured and having trouble standing, with a dire need to perform the Ritual. Even if he did overcome the odds and found an ancient oak, what were the chances that it would be a full moon? Should there be one out, an emergency healing would be plausible, provided that no human saw him. With no way to reach Foaly, the LEP, or any other fairy, there was not much hope that he would be able to cover up for any mistakes. His brain dutifully cautioned him that he could no longer shield, and, being near one of the most populated Mud Men cities, he was sure to attract attention to himself.

"You are reminded that you are in the proximity of a densely populated Mud Man area. Move with caution and shield at all times."

Root snorted.

But Foaly's suits struck again- cam foil would conceal him well enough without any need for him to shield. The wings might cause problems, as he was mostly certain that he had ridden out the explosion on them. If they had gotten him this far, though…

Activating the helmet commands verbally, he ran a scan for magical hotspots in the vicinity. Corporal Frond's voice abandoned telling him about the dreadful state of his heart, and listed off several sites. Oddly enough, the nearest and most dangerous one was in the heart of Paris. The commander sighed. It was about 15 klicks away, and at night he could make it without risking sun exposure. In rain, the journey wouldn't be exactly optimal, but he needed his magic as quickly as possible and this was the only way he saw to get it back.

Knowing that the midnight venture would be murder on his ribcage, he set the wings on autopilot in the event that he passed out. Definitely not a bright idea to go zooming about in the sky without some sort of backup. After a brief examination, the wings proved to be in mediocre shape: some slight puncture from flying débris down in the chute, but still workable. He took off.

The cam foil blended him in neatly to the night sky, and though Julius Root was certain that deep purple was not his colour, he kept a straight course and headed for Paris.

Somewhere over one lake or another, Root fell asleep. He didn't care much for watching dolphins frolic- even though there were no dolphins in the waters anyway- and at first occupied himself on how he had gotten out of the octo-bonds. That particular quest for knowledge was futile, though, at least until he could concentrate without being interrupted by nasty stabs from his torso. Nodding off did not solve the mystery either, but it granted him a reprieve, which was better than nothing.

His major stroke of luck had been that the wings hadn't also chosen to malfunction. They were of a considerably higher quality than the Double Dex, as Foaly had spent a great deal of his time trying to outdo Koboi's wing design. Root felt a twinge of guilt as he realized that this ambition would have also cost Foaly quite a chunk of his budget to implement in the suits. He almost felt sorry for the centaur, then recollected that Foaly being fooled by Koboi's sensors had resulted in the possible demise of Holly. He'd have to get on the centaur's back about security again. _If_ he got back, that was…

If _Holly_ got back…

And for that second in time, Commander Julius Root wondered whether or not he could handle returning to the LEPrecon if Holly hadn't made it. She had seeped into every part of his life, causing him to fight to keep her in Recon in front of the Council, and protect her…though he hadn't done the greatest job of that, had he? He had no idea where she was, if she was alright, what had happened…He collected himself. For the time being, he had to concentrate on the matter at hand.

So many things could still go wrong. And as it happened, many of them did.

…

Root knew that he was taking a big gamble with the moon business. If there wasn't a full moon out, then he would need shelter and a whole slew of other necessities that he did not want to plan for. He would, under no circumstances, allow himself to go below ground unless he was running hot. Basic tactics (and past experiences with Mud Men) had taught him that, without magic, any fairy could be snatched and seized by the opposition to be used as a bargaining chip. He did not wish to place himself, or Haven, at jeopardy by being so careless and returning in haste.

A more infuriating and immediate problem was that he could not read his moonometer without becoming decidedly nauseous. As Paris and Mud Men civilization were soon approaching, he needed to be inconspicuous, and regurgitation mid-flight did not seem like the best option for stealth. Giving up on the moonometer, he continued towards the signal his helmet provided.

The ancient oak was right on the median of a fashionable street, surrounded by many other trees, which formed an elegant line. The commander, however, was not as interested in the ascetics of the trees compared to what lay beneath them, and swooped down for a smooth landing.

In the end, the ending was no where as near as smooth as he would have liked it. Thanks to a passing onslaught of vehicles whipping by, Root was rolled over mid-air by the resulting rebellious gusts, and sailed into the tree, further damaging the wings and doing his ribs absolutely no good. At this rate, better technology though they were, the wings were not going to be lasting very long. He disentangled himself from the clutches of the oak and flopped onto the ground with a muffled "oof". Then he began his quest for an acorn.

Working under cloudy skies was not easy. For one thing, it made finding anything, let alone an acorn, extremely difficult, especially since the acorn would be on the ground. The task was complicated by the Mud Men, as the lights shinning from the Parisian shop fronts cask dark shadows under the oak tree- precisely where the commander was looking. Due to a combination of these factors, he accidentally cut his gloved hand on a sharp shard of glass lying hidden in the darkened earth. After a few moments of feverish swearing, in which some previously unknown elfin expletives were said, he resumed searching. The helmet piously interjected that swearing in the field was most unprofessional.

This had better be the right tree, he thought venomously. Heads would roll when he got back to Recon, make no mistake.

Finally, his fingers closed around the familiar shape of the acorn, and he was able to release a sigh of relief (albeit a silent one). With a broken suit, he knew better than to take the chance that he might be overheard. He grudgingly glanced back at his wings.

No question about it, they were not going to see him through many more flights. After the crash landing he'd endured a bit more had been torn, and now he could clearly see some spots where they had melted back in the chutes. Wonderful, just wonderful. Now, not only would he be flying again and hazarding unconsciousness, but he'd also have to take care to stay aloft on faulty wings. Walking through crowded streets of Mud People just to get to a spare square of earth was not appealing, and not good for his cover. Though, if the helmet kept up like this, he might as well throw cover out the window.

"You are cautioned against flying, as your ribcage will incur serious damage should you do so."

No kidding, Root thought, prepping for flight.

"A lockdown on your wings will now be initiated-"

He nearly yelled. Foaly wouldn't really lock down his wings, would he?

Root considered the situation. Foaly, the paranoid centaur, always wearing a tinfoil hat, protecting his computers jealously, always wanting to secure things…D'Arvit.

"Override lockdown!" Root whispered feverishly. He was so close to regaining his magic; he did not need the centaur botching it up.

"Lockdown will commence…"

"Override, D'Arvit!" Now not so quietly.

"Requested override requires a password to continue. Give the password please."

A password? Why hadn't he been told? Did it count for nothing that he was the youngest-ever commander of the LEPrecon and one of Recon's most successful officers? His mind was raging, and had any other LEP officer been there, they would have remarked that Root turned one of his most brilliant shades of red.

He was exhausted and frustrated now. Knowing that a password was beyond him at this stage, Root sulked.

"Damn centaur. You're not getting any more birthday carrots fr-"

"Password accepted. Override achieved."

At once the wings speed into action on his back. Root had not been expecting so sudden a take-off, which jarred his innards unhealthily. Lili picked up from where she had left off about his overworked nervous system and the commander took to the skies once again, plotting a course for a small thicket not too far away.

Once there, he nearly dropped the acorn out of apprehension. Recovering quickly, he took a few precautions before attempting the Ritual, including tightening the neck brace on his suit to ensure his head was facing in the correct direction when his collarbone healed, and relaxing himself as much as he could. Then, with slightly quivering fingers, he dropped the acorn into a small hole in the earth and waited.

For a tense instant, nothing happened, and Root feared for the worst. As a cool wind blew through the tall grasses around him, the clouds parted, revealing a full moon.

The magic hit him completely off-guard, knocking him clear off his feet and rendering him unconsciousness to perform the healing. In a shower of blue sparks and raindrops, he fell into the field.

…

Lili Frond was at it again when he woke up, reminding him that he was near Paris and to take caution, but suddenly a most miraculous event occurred: she ceased speaking.

Root yelled joyfully (which the typical fairy did not catch him doing). And the excellent part about this was that he could actually yell, as his ribs and lungs were now precisely in the shape they were supposed to be in. There would be no more from Frond. That thought alone was enough to make any sane fairy cry out ecstatically. Now that priority one was completed, he could move onto finding Holly, and reaping just revenge on one Opal Koboi should he be unable to locate Captain Short…

Just as he brushed off the remnants of dirt from his suit and was about to fire up his wings again, something whooshed through the air, coming straight towards him. Before he had time to react, a sickening sound of something snapping greeted his ears. Root did not need to look down to know what had happened.

Broken ribs…oh Frond, not again…

And Lili was back, too: "You have _seven_ broken ribs. How do you people do these things?"

Had the world not started to swim before him, Julius Root might have sworn or at least resisted. He might have even guessed who was behind this new scheme. All that registered with his slowly fading vision was the identity of the object causing him pain, magnetically attracted to the metal on his chest and his insignia. The blue sparks started to do their job, traveling everywhere along the wound. Root hissed as he was pulled forcibly off his feet.

He doubted he'd ever hated anything now so much as he hated those gripper clamps.

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

Alright, here's chapter two! Yes, there's a cliffhanger, but I bet people already know who's behind the clamps.

And my replies:

**anon-anon-anon**: We can always hope, can't we? I mean, Colfer's going to have a riot on his hands pretty soon. If all the Root-lovers out there could just form an alligance and campaign...Anyway, I completely agree with you. I'm definitely changing some stuff over here. (cackles evilly) Thanks so much for the fav! (It made my day) I hope you'll like the next chapters too!

**slime frog**: Wow! -fan moment- I love your story 'The Seven Deadly Sins of Holly Short' so much. (I feel so honoured that you reviewed my story. Thanks!) -end fan rant- Me too! As soon as I read about Root dying, I went all shakey and started to have a nervous breakdown. To prevent going into emotional distress, I kept reading over and over the suit description (Trypt is such a nerd) about the fireproof, shock proof, bullet proof parts, etc and then kept saying 'oh, Root'll be back soon, don't worry.' That's how I read OD. So that's also the inspiration for this fic- all my weird scenarios of what was going on with him. There's got to be hope still. Five's my lucky number! (shakes fist at Colfer) But, yes, I agree: Stalking him is the only option (mwahaha). Let's get to it!

**marshall**: True, very true. For the moment, the commander's on top of the world (ha ha) but he will go back under and then I guess I'll have to change that. (lol)

**em**: You're very welcome! Root/Holly stuff is much too rare these days. I've got 2 other ideas for RH fics that I might do when I finish this one. Y'know, you ought to come on FFN and try your hand at Root/Holly too. We need all the shippers we can get!

**The Dark Empress of Eternity**: I'm very glad. I hope you like this chapter, too!

**siapa nama saya**: I wish he would! XD But you never know- he brought back Mulch, Madam Fowl, Fowl the First, and Koboi all from seemingly permanent conditons (death, insanity, death again, coma just for a few examples) so there is still hope. Thanks for reviewing!

_Thanks everyone! I'll start work on Chapter 3 soon-- the idea's in my head and I've been laughing at it far too long by myself. Even the campers are starting to think that Trypt has gone nuts. (It's dangerous to one's sanity, working at a summer camp) And as usual, review! _


	3. Truffle Aboard

The Julius Deception

Or, "A Factual Description of What on Earth Happened to the Commander"

"Chocolate truffles are my passion, you know. All that time I was away, truffles were one of the two things I craved. The other was revenge."

Opal Koboi, The Opal Deception, p. 175

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, there was a method to Opal Koboi's madness. Ever since that cleansing coma, she had looked at each aspect of her brilliant plan and pondered where she had gone wrong. 

Explaining why the scheme had failed had been easy: It was all Cudgeon's fault. The goblins were all _his_ idea anyway, and the whole thing would have worked so much better if he hadn't insisted on them…

But he was dead, so there was no use dwelling on that. None at all. Having learnt her lesson, Opal vowed never to use a goblin in an assassination attempt ever again. Better to use something more reliable, preferably something that knew that jumping on a train did not mean dead, however radioactive the train might be.

In keeping with this promise, Opal had hired the Brill brothers to do most of her dirty work. All the same, if you needed an expendable lackey, there was nothing quite like a goblin to fill the position. So, she chose to _mesmer_ize Scalene, knowing that the LEP was sure to send out the elves she wanted to investigate.

And, as usual, Opal Koboi was not disappointed.

This time, though, when things started to go awry, she was ready. Captain Holly Short had somehow managed to knock the detonator askew with hers shot, and, as Opal had feared, when the chunk of rock hit the commander's wings it was enough for the rig to spirit Root away.

Sure, there had been major bodily damage and one of her enemies was in intense discomfort, but what did that matter? He wasn't dead, and that was the problem. Her tiny fists had clenched in rage and had the Brill brothers not been present, she would have pounded the desktop.

Instead, she had adopted a meditative mood. Things were still working in her favor; Holly believed Root dead, as would the rest of the fairy world. As long as dear Julius never made it back to Haven City, the plan would go through as smoothly as planned. It could even be to her advantage if the commander was alive…

That got her mind rolling into action. It would be the perfect trick: hold one of the most important people to the People hostage (while they assume he's dead), then reveal the commander to the Mud Men as proof of Fairy existence. The People were sure to make an attempt to rescue him, and that was exactly the kind of thing she needed to draw them out for capture.

Her stealth shuttle had followed Root as he made his trek around Paris, and then at just the right moment, she set the clamps on him. In celebration of her new acquisition, she sent Merv and Scant down to the booty box for more truffles.

They were taking a little longer than usual, but what did that matter? She was well on her way to taking over the world for real this time and now no one could stop her.

Koboi cackled. It really was a deliciously evil plan.

…

_Crunch_…

For the third time, Julius Root woke up. He noted that he'd been making a habit of falling asleep in unknown areas and resigned himself to put an end to it. It was not tactically sound, some area of his brain lectured. As a commander, he really ought to know better. Goes against every rule in the-

_Crunch…_

Unlike most of the commanders before him, Root attended a good deal of the in-services held at Police Plaza, including one on Sound Recognition (which Major Kelp had also been to for his Captain's exam). After lengthy training and personal experience (equally lengthy), he was able to identify the sound as someone eating something.

This was a relief, as the sounds for bones being crunched and food being crunched were disconcertingly similar. Luckily, he had determined that it was the latter and that was nothing to worry about. …Or was there?

_Crunch…crunch…_

Crunching meant living beings. Which could mean Mud Men. And that might mean captors…

But that thought was thrown out of his head immediately as his police instincts set in: Whomever was crunching would stop if they knew what was good for them. He hadn't allowed eating in _his _office- except by himself, of course- and he wasn't intending on bending the rules here. Plus, though he would never admit it, he was feeling the pangs of hunger more acutely now that someone else had food.

Suddenly, there was a noise and Root stifled his stomach's growling, lying very still.

"Oi, Merv!"

"Yeah? Don't tell me she's found us out. These things are way too good to keep just to herself." More chewing, followed by the distinctive sound of slobbering. "Mmm. Frond, I can't believe we never thought of this before."

"Neither can I," said the other voice in agreement. "Gods, _I_ wouldn't mind taking over the world if it meant that I could have all of these I wanted."

Where they talking about some sort of secret weaponry? Root considered it. Or maybe a stash of gold? This certainly didn't sound good for the LEP.

"Mm-hm. Say, you think that's her reason?"

"What do you mean?"

Root listened intently. They were going to reveal the crux of whatever plan kept him here. This could be his ticket out…

"Well, she hasn't met the prisoner yet, whom she will undoubtedly tell everything about her plan. It's just what she does. And, as we're the hench-faries, _we_ don't get told_ anything_. I wouldn't mind knowing what's going to happen once in a while."

He nearly pounded the floor. Come on, he shouted in his head. Get to the important part. At least he was pretty sure about who the prisoner they were talking about was, if that was any consolation.

"Very true. 'Course, I don't think she'd admit it."

"Admit what?"

Root held his breath.

"That she's trying to destroy the People for the truffles."

He sighed in exasperation, a little too loudly.

"Woah, was that her?"

Hurriedly, sounds of shuffling and scuttling reverberated across the room.

Trying to draw his attention away from the movement, he concentrated on checking himself for injuries. He became aware of a slight pain in his thumb, but when he tried to inspect the digit, he also discovered that his hands had been bound. Not good.

On the bright side, if there was a bright side to being tied up with idiots talking gibberish around you, he wasn't experiencing any great pain. Frond was even blessedly silent, except for a far-off sounding clip about lying still too long and blood clots.

Of course, this peace couldn't last forever.

Nothing happened at first, which made it even worse. Then, quite suddenly, a rectangular object slid down from its perch in the heavens above and whacked him unceremoniously on the nose.

He winced, trying with all his might to refrain from swearing.

"D'Arvit! Scant, I thought you to put that box back! Now she'll know for sure that there's something going on!" The voice said worriedly.

The commander had been expecting sinister steps or a resounding echo, or at the very least some sort of action that would foretell the coming doom. There was none, save a mysterious humming sound that was barely audible.

"And just what did I tell you two dolts about swearing around me?"

"We're so sorry, Miss-"

"Yeah, really sor-"

"Swearing," she cut in, "dirties the air which _I_ have to breathe. I can always tell when you have been swearing: it makes the truffles taste slightly off."

Something was coming towards him. Root desperately tried to refrain from peeking.

Unfortunately, Root had recoiled more than he thought at the impact of the box, and his position had changed just enough for his captors to see right through his act.

"Here he is, Miss. Awake, just as you specified."

Wonderful. Knowing that there was no use at all to feigning anything when one's captors already knew the ruse, he sat up and opened his eyes.

The scene that greeted him was nothing short of comical- not at all what he had expected.

After working for centuries in the LEP, Julius Root could count on a few standard things with kidnapers: One, they usually did not let the victim see their faces. Two, food was not readily available in the cell, definitely not stacked in mountainous forms all around him. And three, most masterminds, however power-hungry, controlling, and arrogant, did not usually have their underlings kowtowing to them.

"Hello, Julius," spoke Opal Koboi, as Merv and Scant bowed as elegantly as they could manage (all while trying to hide any signs of their raid on the truffles). Scant lost his balance as he shoved a partially empty box out of his employer's sight, but steadied quickly once Opal gave him a look.

A whisper of noise was emanating from his helmet, still on the ground. The good news was that it was in good working order. The bad news was that Root did not have to bend down to know who it was.

"So," simpered Koboi, as she reclined on her Hoverboy and delicately selected a fresh box of truffles from a nearby pile. "You managed to survive my explosive pack. Very good, very good, commander." She clapped her hands in mock applause before resuming. "You LEPrecon officers have always had the greatest quantity of dumb luck I've ever encountered."

He evaluated the statement. True, his department had been very fortunate: Holly had lost a finger, to have it restored to perfect working order; his own ribs had been squished in E37, once when trying to enter the supply chute, and again by Koboi's device (and, come to think of it, again by gripper clamps just now); he and Holly had endured radiation in the Arctic and on the Mayak Train; Trouble Kelp and Retrieval One had survived Bulter; Coporal Newt had not yet had a heart attack; and somehow he'd restrained himself from murdering Foaly on several occasions. Amazing, really. Next thing you knew, Bom Arbles would be flying through the chutes again.

"In light of that," Koboi continued, "you'll be staying here, in my booty box."

"In your _what_?" the commander spluttered.

"My booty box, Julius. Surely you know what that is?"

Root reddened, and gripped his bonds tightly.

"Yes, I do. Now, what's the reason for keeping me here?"

Koboi allowed herself a little giggle. "Because you, Julius, are my booty."

This caused even the Brill brothers to work heard not to double over with laughter. The commander had turned a fascinating shade of crimson, and Koboi quickly became annoyed.

"And _what_ are you two laughing about?" She turned towards the twins, voice dripping with malice. Merv and Scant were sniggering, not to mention with Julius acting rather oddly. And for once, Opal Koboi could not fathom why. This was probably a good thing for the Brill brothers.

Calling her attention back to him, the commander spoke, hoping to drag out some sort of answer about his captivity from her.

"So let me get this straight," he mused innocently, "You've just become a Mud Maid-"

"That's _Miss_ Mud Maid to you, Julius."

"- and you expect me not use every spark of magic I have against you?" He thought it was a sound argument, and in a normal situation, it would have been. Fairies had magic, humans did not. Basic. Hit her with the _mesmer_ and he was free. Easy as stink worm pie.

However, Koboi was smiling. And when Opal Koboi was smiling about your master plan, it was a safe bet that things were not looking good for you.

"I did. And I do. _You_, though, you don't know a thing about science, do you? You're wrong on two points." She illustrated this by holding up a tapering finger for each point. "One, you forget that the transformation from fairy to human is not an instant one. It takes time. I am still very much a fairy, despite appearances. So, any magical skill you could use would go directly against the laws of the Book."

"Two, I would _obviously_ have taken into account the fact that you would use magic. Merv, show the dear commander his thumb."

The twin scampered over, intent on obeying the orders of his mistress, lest she discover her truffles missing. It was always smart to be on Miss Koboi's good side.

"This is a little device I think you might find familiar."

After the twin had finished releasing one arm, careful to give the prisoner no leeway to escape, Root was allowed a full view of the damage. There was virtually none. None, save the small, unmistakable pinprick made by a tack.

A pinprick that no blue sparks were coming forth to heal.

"D'Arvit," Root cursed, none too softly.

He remembered doing this to officers that were going to take their Captain's exam, draining them of all their magic so that not a drop would be left. It was the most painless, and, as he had found out, least noticeable way to sap a fairy's magic.

"Exactly." gloated Koboi. "The very same method you use at the Plaza. Briar told me quite a few things about your methods and I've just been _dying_ to try them out for myself."

Shaking with mirth, she twirled the Hoverboy's joysticks and readied the chair for the flight upwards. She misjudged the height of the ceiling and accidentally bumped her head on the top of the hold.

"Ow!"

Once more, the Brill brothers had to fight the rolls of laughter that were threatening to overtake them. Working with Opal Koboi was not a job where one could expect a lot of comical moments, and this meeting with Root was catching them off guard more than was professional for hench-fairies.

Miffed that the situation was slipping away from her, Koboi delivered a series of devastating blows:

"Merv, Scant! I want the booty box-" More snickering. "-cleaned and tidied the next time I come down. It's a mess. Re-organize everything and stop breathing in my general direction. It's absolutely _disgusting_."

Groans resounded against the walls of the booty box. When Opal wanted a place reorganized, it generally took days. And that was before she came down and had them move things around to suit her tastes. It was an utter nightmare of a job.

"Oh, and Julius?"

Biting his lip so that he wouldn't worsen matters by exploding about Koboi using his first name, the commander tensed.

"Yes, Koboi?"

"I think it's only fair that you know what really happened to Captain Short in that chute."

Root involuntarily dropped his guard. Holly? What _had_ happened to Holly?

Koboi twirled the Hoverboy's controls, gliding slowly backwards in an omnious fashion.

"When your wings activated, it dislodged the detonator device enough for it to fall off mid-flight. Naturally, it had to go somewhere."

He held his breath, praying that Koboi wasn't going to tell him what he thought…

"Captain Short was right behind you as you were flying, and was later vaporized by the remaining explosions. I hadn't exactly planned it that way," she added, as she moved farther and farther away, "but fate works its own agenda. Either way, she's dead and you're mine. Good-bye Julius."

Root sat in shock.

His eyes didn't register that Koboi had backed up too far and gone into a wall, his ears hardly heard the sounds of Merv and Scant's chuckles. He couldn't feel the cold steel of the booty box beneath his hands, and when the lights were shut off it barely made a difference to the darkness that clouded the edges of his vision.

He had lost his taste for food, and subconsciously doubted that truffles would help anyway. The air was dry and stagnant, and something was clogging his lungs that was not cigar smoke. He felt himself slipping, falling into the greater blackness that loomed beyond the walls of his prison and could sense the realization washing over him.

There really was no purpose now. An empty void bit into the back of his heart, reminding him of the absence of his magic and everything else he valued: honour, justice, Holly...

Holly…

He hadn't- had he?

How long had he known? Since that first day at the Academy, while saving Haven from being flooded, during the goblin rebellion? It wasn't being late that bothered him, not much. It was the sauce they lathered over the burgers at Spud's.

That's not the point, captain. The point is that it looks like a rectangle and therefore is not a titanium pillar. But it was chance, all chance…He'd had his chance, riding with her in a limousine through Haven. One option, that's all you have, convict. Chasing after what had been so important and now was just there…

Was he always jealous? That day in Tara…could not have been his promotion, could it? Always the pony's fault, too. Nothing to do with this…

Nothing to do with her.

His bleary eyes focused for a moment on the faded light coming from the shuttle cabin above him, and brought his confused thoughts back into coherent forms. He'd searched all of Haven for someone like that; the city just didn't make them that way now. There had been so few people he could compare to her. Haven rarely saw any stars, the People lived underground, too far from the sky to care about them anymore.

Julius Root wasn't worried that he would never see Haven again: he was resigned to that.

He was worried that he may have put out one of the few stars it had.

* * *

_Author's Notes:_

_I am so sorry! (bows head in shame) All these lovely reviews and no chapter in forever...My computer died, and took everything I had with it, so I got depressed. Then it took a week and a half to get the new computer and then I had vacant inspiration syndrome...gah!_

_It's a little angsty at the end, but I just couldn't force Root, Koboi, and everybody else to keep bumping into things without a little seriousness to the story. XD Must keep balance...  
_

_Anyway, here it is. Chapter Three. Sorry again for the wait but, hey, at least it's longer! (dodges flying fruit and vegetables) Actually, I was surprised that more people hadn't guessed that Koboi was going to come into the picture. She _is_ an evil genius, you know. Give her some credit, guys. (lol) Prize goes to _**slimefrog**_ for coming closest. 'Course, there is no prize anyway, other than an author trying to make her readers believe there is...(more vegetables fly)_

_I'd better just answer reviews...Oh, did anyone get confused by the part about titanium rods, etc by the end? It's _supposed_ to be Root's thought process breaking down out of shock and going from topic to topic in his life that he feels badly about and then relating it to Holly's death (and how he feels responsible for it). Everything's really all connected. ...(lol) Maybe I should explain that in the next Author's Note...let me know if you want the weird logic behind the randomness! (cackles and is hit by carrot) Right, the reviews!_

**Sarah**Oh, I think he did. (winks) He's just trying to build up the dramatic tension for the next book, trying to fool everyone...right, Mr. Colfer? Right! (has nervous breakdown)

******Trouble Kelp**I like that possibility, too. Sorry about not being so forward with the updating. (kicks old computer) Stupid viruses...

******sergeantstan**Doesn't that always seem to happen with favourite characters? You're reading along, thinking, 'Faustus, this is great! What a neat couple!' and then they blow up. (lol) Me too! I can just imagine him walking into Holly's detective office, waiting for her to see him...( XD squees ) That would be a good fic idea...hmm...Also, I saw your story with HollyRoot - have not read it yet(I desperately want to, though) Parents are limiting computer time (is currently sneaking on...). But I will! Thanks for the encouragement!

******slimefrog**God, we _are_ twins! (points to story above) I hadn't even read the reviews until I wrote this chapter. Great minds think alike...Either that or Root being secretly alive could be a major plot twist that Colfer has up his sleeve. You should post your idea! I'd love to see your take on what happened. (lol) Yes, it would be great to have a fic with Holly glomping him like crazy. But didn't I say that 'so many things could go wrong and many of them did'? (quotes self, feels like dork) Back to the point, though, yes, this is going to be more slow as far as R/H goes. With any luck, it'll keep some poor, unsuspecting soul up all night reading when it's done...Root's got a long way to go, though. So, never fear! The end is far from over! (oxymoron...yes) I should stop now...next person..

******potter-Dork: **He can't, can he? XD If I had a dime for all the times he gets injured I could probably bribe Colfer to bring him back. (but I don't, so...bah) Of course he's not dead. (lol) I have the same idea about that chapter name, too! ha, ha! Root-lovers, unite! (okay, that was lame, I'll admit it) Check out Chapter 4's name, too...I think that also had something to do with it- 'Narrow Escapes', right? See? More proof! XD I have the next chapter in my mind...will update soon...(hypnoties self)

******em**Thank you! I really do need encouragement, you know. (lol) Funny thing, I was always the one who would laugh at authors when they wrote that their reviewers kept them going...but now I'm having to laugh at myself. You guys rock, seriously. Keep 'em coming!

******RussianWolf7**Thanks! You still ought to finish OD, though. (wink) I think I'm going to use a couple scenes from there for the fic, so it'll make more sense if you do. Plus, reading is good! XD You do can what slime and I do: delude yourself that Root really lived and that Colfer's just pretending about the death thing. (shakes fist) We have believers, I tell you! You're right: there isn't any point with out Root. That's why I don't like EC much. (The Arctic Incident is my favourite, though. I loved it so much that I rented the book on CD from the library. And then (weirdo that I am) I burnt a CD of it...(lol)) I agree again! H/R rocks! Someone ought to make a C2 for H/R...(hint hint wink wink)

_And that just about wraps things up. As always, please review since it's great to know what people think about this fic-- you won't believe how nervous I get whenever I push the 'Sumbit Chapter' button. But you don't want to know anyway, so why not review and save Trypt from extreme consternation about typos, OOC-ness, and misspellings? _

_Thanks for reading! _


	4. The Opal Depression

The Julius Deception

Or, "A Factual Description of What on Earth Happened to the Commander"

"Foaly, do I have to remind you that your sensors have been fooled before, in this very terminal, if I remember correctly?"

- Cmdr. Julius Root

* * *

**Ops. Booth, Lower Elements:**

No life signs, no pain sensors. Not even a measly _blip_.

The Ops Booth at the Lower Elements Police Plaza was usually a hub of activity. Fairies of all sorts would zip past the booth, with the occasional passerby peeking in to see what new invention the centaur was cooking up.

Things had changed; silence had crept over the room. At this point in a typical mission, the Booth ought to have been filled with sounds: the steady drum of centaurian fingers on keyboards, the whirr of computers racing to provide data, carrots being crunched, conversations in the field, and, if you were really lucky, Julius barging in to complain about the budget. Or the Council. Or Holly.

Holly herself might also sneak in when she was sure that the hallways were safe from the commander. Then, Foaly'd bring out his latest project and would show it off to Holly, who, unlike the bulk of the Recon jocks, could understand what he was talking about. Maybe not the one to help him debug it or talk technical about it, but definitely the elf he'd trust most with testing things out in the field.

Of course, with the way Sool kept shortening his budget at every opportunity, chances are that there was not going to be a lot of new creations needing testing.

The new commander in question had just left, but not until after he'd finished poking his cane into Foaly's expensive (and fragile) Atlantean screens. This was one of the reasons that the centaur missed Root. He knew that Julius wouldn't have poked the screens. The commander would have smacked them. And Root actually had done so once, only to be burnt by the heat generated by the plasma.

Come to think of it, Holly had done the same thing. Trying to draw his eyes away from the flat lines on the monitor, Foaly sat back and remembered. On her very first day as an officer in the LEPrecon, Captain Holly Short had wandered into the Ops. Booth while searching a bit haphazardly for her office….

…

"This isn't the Captains' offices, right? Some sprite pointed me in this direction but-"

"Nope. Ops Booth. Captains' offices are on the other end of the escalators."

Then, it hit him. There was only one person who would need a new office: the first girl in Recon, and- to Foaly's great amusement – the only one to beat Commander Root at paintball.

"Hey, wait a moment! Aren't you the one who finally tagged Julius?" Holly paused, not knowing how to react.

When in conversation the subject of her initiation was breached, most officers in Recon were of two minds about it: they either thought that a girl didn't belong in Recon and that Root had been tagged unfairly; or that Holly ought to be congratulated for ending the commander's bragging about never being hit in paintball. Up to this point, it had been easy to gauge which officers had which opinions. With Foaly's impartial question though, Holly couldn't be sure which side he was on…

Seeing this, the centaur smiled. "I'm all for you, Captain." Holly looked visibly relieved. "Anything that annoys the commander is alright in my book. Come on in- I've just finished the tide wave for Tern Mór."

This caught her attention.

"The tidal wave? To cover the damage I caused with the shuttle?" Holly asked, intrigued. "How exactly do you do that?"

Foaly was impressed. Most of the officers in Recon hadn't any notion of what it took to clean up a mission that had gone awry. And even if they did, they didn't care too much how it was done, as long as no Mud Men took notice. He was more than happy to oblige.

He showed Holly how the tidal wave had been programmed to crash into the shores of the island, the impact, and the decimation it had caused to the little shack. There hadn't been much difference in the before and after pictures of the human residence.

"And this is your job? You make tidal waves and cover stuff up?"

Foaly was about to correct her and say that _actually_, he did much more than that, but her next remark made him bite his tongue.

"Frond, that's amazing. All the mistakes people make in the field and it all falls to you to keep the Mud Men from finding out about them?"

He barely had the chance to reply when he heard what every inventor, scientist, and computer programmer dreads to hear. Because once you hear those words you _know_ that something bad is going to happen. Maybe it's just the way people say it. Maybe it's the manner in which they move towards the computer with their hand outstretched, while everything goes into slow motion. Nonetheless, Foaly's trademark paranoia went into overdrive as Holly said:

"What's that?"

She was pointing to a highlighted section on a large plasma screen. Foaly made a valiant attempt to gallop towards her before the inevitable happened.

"Wait, Captain, don't touch-"

Too late.

Holly's long elfin fingers made contact with the glass and immediately after impact she drew her hand back, cradling it protectively.

"D'Arvit!"

He sighed. "Plasma screen. Gets very hot after it's been on for a while." He noticed blue sparks playing around her fingers as she backed away nervously. Her hair even looked a bit singed. "Guess I should have warned you. Oh well." Holding out a hand to her, he introduced himself:

"Name's Foaly. Technological genius and just about the only thing protecting the People from Mud computer progress. You?"

Holly shook his hand. "Captain Holly Short of Recon. The first female captain and top of the Academy in flying." She grinned sheepishly. "That's about it. I haven't gone out on any missions yet, so…"

"Pleased to meet you, Holly. Want to see the new convict you and Julius bagged? I've got a secret camera in his cell for surveillance."

"Isn't that a violation of his privacy, though?"

Foaly winked at her, then replied, "Only if the Council finds out. Besides," he added, "it can't hurt to be too careful."

Holly ended up spending the remainder of her first day in the Ops. Booth. Foaly didn't get much work done, but he did acquaint Holly with the entire line of wings, iris cams, and weaponry the LEP had at its disposal. Upon finding out where Holly had been, the commander was not pleased at all; which, as usual, pleased Foaly to no end.

…

He sighed, straightening the pile of e-forms that Sool had left in a mess on his keyboard.

Pondering, Foaly reclined in his chair and gradually forgot about the e-forms, about Sool, and about the silent cacophony around him except for the two thin lines on the monitor. There was nothing to distract him from the inevitable conclusion: his machines didn't lie. Holly was gone, just like Julius.

Sool had even seen to it himself; he was the one who had pressed the button, after all. He probably would have even detonated the remote incinerator in Julius' helmet too, if he hadn't already been sure that the former commander was gone.

Foaly absentmindedly wondered how his suits would have held up under such extreme temperatures. Pity that the only ones who had worn them had died…

Deftly, he flicked a switch to his side. The computers around him shut down, one by one, each sporting a black, blank screen as though in mourning. While the Ops. Booth began to dim, the only computer that Foaly left on- the one with the captain and the commander's vitals – fell silent, having gone into the power conserving mode. The lines remained on the screen, pulsing slightly, but showing no other motion.

Outside, news of the commander's death was just beginning to break. LEP personnel were rushing to their computers, trying to see if the rumors they had heard had some validity to them. A few seconds passed before their mouths opened wordlessly and gaped at the Gnommish words spelling out the truth.

Once Foaly thought that he had heard someone knocking on the door of the Ops. Booth. He didn't answer it. They went away after a little while.

The clamor around the Booth had died down, and the officers were migrating dumbfounded between the main hall and their desks, like pallbearers rehearsing with a heavy load on their shoulders. They seemed like ghost- leaderless, lost- as they made soundless movements across the floors.

Foaly blacked out the Ops. Booth's interior windows. No need for him to see what would happen next; he already knew the procedure for fallen officers by heart. He hadn't believed it up until now. He had hung onto the hope that Julius would sooner or later come barging into his office yelling about the stealth shuttle and why hadn't he picked it up before they went in there, blah blah blah. Now, there was nothing.

The centaur kept straining his ears, attempting to pick out the commander's perturbed gait from the silence. For a moment, he could have sworn that he heard Root again, but it was only his imagination.

For now there was no noise.

**Back in the Stealth Shuttle:**

"Captain Holly Short. The first female in Recon and the officer involved in the Artemis Fowl problem. For more information on Fowl and any of his colleagues, please press 'one.' Captain Short also saved Haven City from the combined efforts of Opal Koboi and Briar Cudgeon in the Goblin Rebellion, along with: Artemis Fowl- for more about Fowl please press 'one'-"

Root grunted. Gods, they were really pushing the Fowl issue.

He was sitting on the floor of the booty box, his back against a wall of truffles, and he was trying to hold onto sanity by listening to a tinny recording about Holly. It was actually very pathetic. That didn't stop him from listening to the recording over and over, though.

"- Bulter, Fowl's manservant, and Foaly, Head of Technology at the LEP. In a covert…"

Sighing, he absentmindedly realized that his involvement in the case had gone unnoticed. Strange how he hadn't picked up on that during the seventeen times he'd listened to Holly's bio in the helmet files…

"…operation, led by Commander Julius Root. For more information on the commander, please press 'three'."

Three? Whatever had happened to two? Had he not paid attention to that either?

To his credit, the commander had thus far managed to restrain himself from falling into deep depression by listening to the bios. Though one would typically expect Frond to be the cause of depression -Root was wondering how _anyone _could find so many things wrong with his left fibula- the voice in the helmet was for once providing a useful service. There wasn't much else to do anyway: Koboi had sipped some of the fibre-optics in his already dilapidated helmet, and precious few of the actual functions remained intact.

Most of the helmet commands had ceased to operate (the location system was gone, and though Root had hoped fervently that the medical clinic feature had died too, he soon found it was ver much alive), and he considered himself lucky that the officer bios remained. Getting Frond to recite bios would stop her from reprimanding him about being drained of magic as well as his bad smoking habits, and he liked hearing about Holly.

"…for more information on how exactly the Goblin Rebellion was put down, please press 'four'."

Maybe Koboi had plotted to make him go crazy from over-exposure to Frond…

"Holly Short also aided in the memory wipe of Artemis Fowl, for more informa-"

Root nearly hurled the head piece into a truffle stack. How _had_ he listened to that seventeen times? It was enough to make stinkworms stop stinking. Thankfully, Merv and Scant burst through the hatch before the message could lapse back into its endless repetition.

**Stealth Shuttle Cockpit, 3 minutes prior**

Opal Koboi was busily banging her keyboard with her fists. It wasn't exactly the best course of action for an evil genius, but it felt really good.

Obviously, things weren't exactly peachy for Opal. The view screen in front of her was projecting a giant image of a biobomb exploding into bits, with a small green speck zipping off into the background. Not what you wanted to see when you ignited a missile.

Just as she was getting ready to start tearing her hair out in frustration, she composed herself.

Things were still going according to plan. So what if Captain Short had escaped the biobomb? It made the situation more difficult, but Opal still held the advantage. Captain Short's flight only made the situation more interesting. Think about the drill...that lovely drill, waiting all for you...She relaxed.

Merv and Scant then began to whisper amongst themselves, which did nothing to improve Opal's temperment.

"Think she's really lost it this time?"

"I don't know...watch for the twitch."

The Brill brothers waited.

Very slowly, like a hungry predator stalking out a kill, Opal turned to face them.

"Just what do you think do you two are doing, muttering behind my back? I don't tolerate that, especially when you rudely invaded my privacy by not knocking _or_ addressing me in the proper manner." With a 'hmph!', she turned back to the controls.

Merv decided to break the silence: "Miss Koboi, we're terribly sorry-"

"As you ought to be."

"-we only thought you might like to know-"

Opal massaged her temples, as parents are wont to do when confronted with an overzealous child. "I probably know it already, Merv."

The twin paused. "My apologies-"

"Get on with it, Merv."

"Well, Scant and I were just walking down and inspecting things, since, you know, that's our job..."

The pixie tried to calm down. Think about the drill, Opal, think about the terrified faces that'll be on everyone when they realize...

"...then and we came across this strange thing on the floor. I had no idea what it was, so Scant though he might-"

Drill...mass terror...hysteria...

"-pick it up!" Finished the other twin. "But it wasn't what I'd thought it was."

"It wasn't?" inquired Opal testily. Her fingers had begun to clutch the control pannel so hard that the knuckles looked pale. She repeated her mantra: The drill, in Italy, waiting...all a part of her plan...Her _brilliant _plan...She became aware that her hand was starting to shake.

"Nope. Not at all."

And there, at that very moment when Scant finished his sentence, it happened.

Opal Koboi's face tightened and, lo and behold, she twitched.

The Brill brothers braced themselves and backed towards the door. This didn't save them from the onsalught of verbal abuse that ensued.

"I don't care what you found on the floor," she began dangerously, "It doesn't have any importance to my plan. Or have you forgotten my plan? With the drill?"

Silence. Merv and Scant knew that it would not be wise (or healthy) to talk.

When Opal resumed speaking, her voice was calm, kind almost. Not a good sign. "_I_ am going to take over the world. _You _are going to help me. The Fairy People will fall to the Mud Men and all will be mine. _Is that simple enough for you?_"

"I don't care how many captains escape biobombs or how many commanders don't vaporize when you expect them too!" Her voice had risen to a feverish pitch as she yelled. "It doesn't matter! It doesn't matter! I matter! You matter...!" A pause "...a lot less than I do! Much less! And all of them- the pony, the boy- they don't matter at all! Pretty soon they'll be no more than dust! DUST, I TELL YOU!"

Opal shrieked in manaical laughter. Noticing that Merv and Scant apparently didn't share her enthusiasm (as both were huddled against the furthest wall) she stopped and stared at them.

"You don't get it, do you?" she spat. "_You_ don't understand a thing! There's no hope for you! None!"

Then, after a moment of extreme consternation:

"Why do I even bother trying any more?"

She curled up in her Hoverboy and sulked, occasionally murmuring to herself. The words 'drill', 'Haven', 'captain', and 'destroy' stuck out in her monologue.

Merv nudged Scant. "I think we should leave now."

Scant nodded. "'Cause if we don't, she'll-"

"_What_ are you two doing here? I want to be left ALONE! OUT!"

"-explode." Scant finished weakly.

"OUT! OUT! D'ARVIT, AM I DOOMED TO NEVER BE BY MYSELF!"

"No, ma'am, not-"

"OUT!"

They went out.

**Stealth Shuttle, Booty Box: **

Julius Root had barely begun to wallow in guilt again before Merv and Scant interrupted him. Thinking that they might be searching for him, he chose to conceal himself behind a truffle mountain.

Much to his surprise, he ended up overhearing something rather important.

"Oh Frond, oh Frond, oh Frond, oh Frond, oh Fr-" Scant wheezed, before he was smacked abruptly by Merv.

"Get a hold of yourself! This is no time to go crazy and spout mantras."

"Just tell that to her! She-"

Merv held up a hand for silence. Scant nodded mutely, acknowledging the request.

"I have a plan." His twin balked. "No, not that kind of plan. We need to placate Miss Koboi, and soon. The way this is headed, we're bound to run into trouble."

Scant came dangerously close to a conniption."_He's_ here, too? I thought this was a stealth shuttle!"

"Not _that _trouble. I meant that the prisoner might escape, our salaries could dissappear, or we might crash, since no one's flying the shuttle now...that sort of thing."

"Oh. Alright."

Merv openned a box of truffles and offered the box to Scant. Which was a very nice gesture, considering that they were, for all they knew, pulmetting onwards to oblivion.

"Frond," Merv said through a mouthful of truffle, "what a time to have a hissy fit. It's gotta be the-"

"Yeah, I agree with you." Scant finished, "Gotta be those Mud Man hormones. Told her that gland was a bad idea."

"Did she listen to us?"

They stimiltaenously shook their heads 'no' and then continued munching.

Unbeknowst to them, a certain elf behind a certain tower of truffles was starting to piece together his own plan. Like it or not, Julius Root was going to get off this shuttle, by any means necessary.

* * *

Author's Note:

_Okay. Originally, I wanted to post this one before I went on vacation, but I hadn't done any of the replies nor really revised the chapter. So, instead of posting something that really stunk, I thought that it might be better to wait a bit and then post. (shakes fist) I really was going to update early, though! Believe me! xD _

_Right...what you have before you- or, rather, above you (points)- is my back-to-school gift to everybody. I've rewritten most of it (it was all Opal screaming at everyone for no reason...great stress relief to write, but it made no sense anyway) and edited the heck out of it, so here you go! You guys even get a nifty Foaly flashback (gasp!) with Holly! Finally! _

_This might just be Trypt's wonky thinking being -er- wonky, but it seems to me that when an author writes Holly's lines, Holly appears to take on some of the characteristics of the writer. Does anyone else think so? (lol) Could just be me...I made an effort to keep Holly as she was in the books without copying her lines like crazy and stuff. xD But I copy some things anyway, so I shouldn't be talking. Oh well. -end philosophical monologue--_

_One last note! (yes, we're bored of Trypt by now, I know...) There's a HollyRoot C2 up,(everybody thank _**sergeantstan**_ for doing that!) so if you're looking for some great HR to read while I -cough- _take forever to_ -cough- update this, check it out! And check, there's my selfless plug for the day, onto the reviews!_

Replies:

**RussianWolf7**: I'm so sorry I took forever to update...I'd love to read your story- can you send it to me in an e-mail? xD Too bad about the 'ratings issue'. (lol) Yup, you're right. I don't intend to change the basic storyline of 'The Opal Deception' too much, I might tweak it a little at the end, though. (and here and there, you know)

**lalalalalala**: Thanks very much!

**sergeantstan**: Thank you! xD I really work hard to get the style down and it's great to know that you like it! (hugs) Root similar to Bulter? Hmm. I can see that he might characterize them basically as military guys, both protecting something, but I think that he could have used some creativity to separate their traits. Maybe he could have gone more into Root's past...or showed the softer side of Bulter more (I mean, come on, Bulter likes to watch romantic comedies!) ... (ducks in preparation for flying food) No, it's true! Bulter said so himself in the Artemis Fowl Files. Somehow, I can't picture dear Julius being too similar to that...(lol)

**potter-DorK**: I had such fun writing that line! xD I want to make Opal more of an actual character instead of the crazy-evil-gal that she sort of turned into in OD. I made your day? (goes into sqee-mode) That's cool! I hope your throat infection's gone...if it's not, then here's chapter four for you ;D Thanks for letting me know about the angst! (relaxes) I was nervous that no one would like it if I included the sad parts, but it didn't make sense not to, so...I did. Chapter Five is going to have a couple of scene-changes, though I do want to keep the story mostly Root-centric. Thanks so much for reviewing- I like getting your reviews.

**Trouble Kelp**: As soon as we got back from our trip, my family found that the wireless connexion we use was not acting so happy. It never ends...xD I'm using a laptop that had everything deleted by a glitch, and it's supposed to be okay...(shifty eyes) or so they say...The good news is that it's sort of like having a new computer, except sort of old. Thanks so much! I'll try to update quicker- my Dad dismantled the computer an hour before I was going to post this before I went on vacation. (lol)

**-anon-anon-anon-** : Thanks! I've got school coming up (tomorrow, actually) so I don't know how soon I'll get a chance to update, but I'll do my best. Glad you liked how Koboi turned out!

**em**: Nope, Holly's safe and sound (well, sort of anyway). So, don't worry! Hope you like this one as much, too!

**Stiggy**: This isn't exactly soon, but at least it's an update, right? xD That's a good idea! (ponders) I definitely don't mind including a little humour in here (mwahaha) so...I'll see where the story takes me. You speak in the first person, too, huh? I do that too! When I was younger, I spoke as Me, Michelle, and I (I had misunderstood 'myself' and thought 'Michelle' instead, I guess (lol)).

**Commander Phoenix**: Thanks! I thought that somebody ought to do a Root-returns fic with that title, so I snatched it up when no one had taken it. Truffles are excellent. In order to write from the persona of the characters, I sometimes find it necessary to eat a couple- you know, to _really_ understand the essence of Opal Koboi. (lol)

**slime frog**: (puts on tinfoil hat and hands one over) There! We can't possibly mindread with the protection of tinfoil guarding our plot details! (lol) When I finish this, let me know how your plot works out (or write a fic!). It would be so random if they were the same...or maybe Colfer's just trying to make everybody go crazy this way. xD I'm not really re-reading it. Once was enough for me! I'm just doing the lazy thing and taking quotes from the 'safe' parts of OD and hoping that no one notices if I'm not one-hundred percent accurate about everything...Cheesy? Yes. Good for sanity though? You bet. I can't wait for the next chapter of your fic- take your time and don't rush! It'll be more than worth the wait when you update it.

Since Trypt has school coming up, she will need a little extra time to update. So, if you want to see how far along I am with the next chapter, check out my profile (another plug! gasp!) and look under 'Various Works and their Status' and 'Deception' should be there. Now, to make Trypt want to update faster...review!


	5. Truffle Tantrum

The Julius Deception

Or, "A Factual Description of What on Earth Happened to the Commander"

"There's a way out of this, Commander. I just need to think."

- Cpt. Holly Short

* * *

Commander Julius Root of the LEPrecon police force was surrounded. He gritted his teeth and cocked the tri-barreled blaster upwards menacingly in an attempt to intimidate the enemy. No reaction. Not even a flicker. 

Well, he'd been in worse than this. He could take on a couple of renegade fairies en route to Tara, no problem. His triple acorn insignia glinted as he stepped into a patch of light, momentarily calling to mind the strangeness of the situation. There was something wrong, something that was just beyond the edges of his vision…

No time for that now. They were drawing their weapons. Root backed up against a wall and bit his lip, calculating the options presented to him. One officer versus large gang: Not Good. It looked like the backup wasn't going to arrive in time either. D'Arvit, where _was_ Holly?

_WHACK!_

Commander Julius Root woke up. For a moment, he looked disoriented, and then he remembered. Something creaked below him ominously and the shuttle shook. Merv and Scant were already racing around the booty box, though it was impossible to tell in the darkness whether they were investigating the damage or hiding their "snacks".

Still half-asleep, he mouthed her name. The stealth shuttle, however, didn't seem to care for his drowsy sentimentality. It crunched rather obnoxiously against the underground tunnel and began to shudder as the engine switched gears. Root gave in and abandoned his attempt to fall back asleep, deciding instead to take shelter behind the truffles. With his hands, arms, and legs still bound, it was difficult to move, but he managed to drag himself over to a strong-looking truffle stack.

A large gash in the shuttle wall and floor gaped open and seemed to widen before him.

"D'Arvit," he breathed as the shuttle's emergency lights bathed the booty box in a red glow.

**Somewhere Over Germany, a few hours earlier:**

This hadn't exactly been in the job description.

Sure, you could expect a few odd things when you worked at the LEP. You could expect even more if you worked under the command of Julius Root. However, there were limits, even for an elf, as to how far you could push abnormality.

Captain Holly Short was just feeling those limits as she speed faster than LEP precautions recommended over Germany. Was it Germany now? At first, Holly hadn't wanted to check her helmet's map system, thinking that the LEP techies would try to track her next moves based on the maps she used. Sure, it was being paranoid. A few years of Foaly could have that effect on you.

In a burst of inspiration, Holly brought up maps of the Arctic Circle, Kenya, South Asia, France, the Western United States, and some assorted islands and cities. She allowed herself to check for Germany once, then returned to pulling up random places. Even if the LEP could track where she was currently, at least they couldn't anticipate her movements.

How was she able to think so clearly? Julius was dead, she was on the run from the LEP, Artemis needed saving- Frond, what wasn't going to go wrong today?

She paused.

Something on the horizon was coming towards her. Alright, probably better not to have asked that question.

"D'Arvit…" Holly squinted at the object before resorting to her helmet's long range setting. If the LEP was already on her tail, then there was no point in concealing what she was doing.

There was something funny about it, though. It didn't look like a LEP shuttle. It didn't even look like a _shuttle. _Holly gunned her wings and earned herself a scolding from Lili Frond:

"Foaly kindly requests that you refrain from-"

Whatever was following her was picking up speed. With a quick flick to the wing motor, Holly kicked the speed up another notch and took a sharp turn. She saw something metal reflect the pale moonlight as it adjusted to her flight path.

Holly swerved again, this time in the opposite direction. Trained Recon jockey though she was, her breakneck speed and hairpin turns were starting to aggravate her stomach. She couldn't do this much longer. Ironically, her follower only continued to come closer and closer.

_Frond, whoever's doing this has got to be pretty persistent. And really good with a shuttle. D'Arvit! Honestly, LEP shuttles don't even go this fast! Am I being followed by a bounty hunter, then? Could they have gotten word out that fast?_

Now, she could see it clearly without her helmet's aid. It was…blue?

_Blue?Wait…why in Frond's name aren't they shielded?_

Standard LEP procedure dictates that, in the incredibly unlikely event that any shuttle is sent above ground, it must be covered in cam-foil and/or shielded from Mud Man eyes. Holly doubted that standard procedures would be followed in a case like hers (and in her case, they hardly were ever). Still, though, there was something not right with whatever was following her.

_This is just like the old days_, Holly thought. _On the run from the enemy, high speed chases…_then, she stopped. It wasn't at all like what she had experienced. People were dying; the stakes were higher. There was no commander anymore to come up with a last minute plan to save the day.

Looking back on her somewhat illustrious history at the LEP, she wondered how she hadn't noticed it before: how only one person would stand by her to bail her out of scrapes with the Council, to straighten out her record so that she wouldn't be stuck on drain duty forever, to help her be what she really wanted to be.

…What was she _thinking_?

Her breath caught as she realized what was following her.

_D'Arvit. Concentrate on the mission, Short._

Trust Koboi to find her before the LEP did and bring along something to finish her off. A bio-bomb, too. Great, just great. _Opal Koboi just keeps on making my day, _she thought bitterly. _And now, I'm all on my own…_

Captain Holly Short sped off, hoping against hope to out-fly the bomb.

**Stealth Shuttle- Cockpit, Uncharted Tunnel:**

"_What!"_

"We're terribly sorry, Ms. Koboi, ma'am…The damage honestly isn't that bad."

"Yeah, yeah," piped up Scant helpfully, "It's only a three foot long hole in the booty box. We can-"

"No! It's all your fault for letting the shuttle go out of control while I was sleeping." She held up a hand as Merv was about to say something, "Do not interrupt Opal Koboi. Get down there now and try to patch it. And make sure that the commander doesn't escape!"

Merv and Scant left the control room and trudged back down the ladder into the booty box.

Scant began to vent on the way down: "After all that, you think that _she_ might take responsibility for the crash. Especially, since she was the one-"

"Steering the shuttle," completed Merv with a sigh. "Oh well. It's probably not a good idea to provoke her anyway." Scant grudgingly agreed, and Merv offered some brotherly consolation: "Look on the bright side. Soon as we get out of here, I want to take a nice, relaxing trip to Atlantis. I think we need a break."

And with that, the twins entered the booty box and began the repair work.

Or so they would have, had they not been hit with a blast of heat as they came through the door.

**Booty Box, Stealth Shuttle:**

"Oh, Frond…"

The commander peered cautiously across, and then down into the rift before him. Because the shuttle was still in the underground chutes, he wasn't surprised when he saw a deep, yawning hole beneath the craft.

He _was_ surprised, though, to see the glowing inferno at the bottom of the hole.

Fire below anything- with the exception of food – is generally a not a good thing. It is especially not good when the fire in question is nothing other than the hot magma of the earth's mantle.

The heat from the magma was already starting to lazily meander through the booty box. Chocolate truffles began to liquefy slowly and brown puddles emerged below some of the larger piles. Root made an effort to free one of his hands so that he could fan himself, but was unsuccessful.

He saw Merv and Scant take one glance at the gap, and then watched as they scurried back up to the cockpit. Root sighed. Wonderful. Here he had the perfect chance to escape: no guards, big, elf-sized hole, and some slight mobility. But where did this hole lead? To the centre of the earth. The expansive, burning mass that would definitely incinerate him.

Frond, why did _everything_ want to incinerate him these days?

Maybe the world just hated him or something.

Then again, it might have been fate trying to tell him to give up. If Holly really was dead, and Koboi had a plan to hold him as a hostage, then him merely staying alive put the People in jeopardy. He could end the entire conflict now if he just…He shook that thought from his head.

There was still a chance. There was _always_ a chance. Even if the world did hate him and his wonder suit was defective, he couldn't give up. Not after surviving the blast back in E37. Not after Holly hadn't been willing to leave him, even if she was…

Root backed away from the hole and reclined (as best he could) against an intact shuttle wall to consider his next move. Koboi would have to get the shuttle out of the chute and get it to safety before she could begin preparations for repairs. That put him in a very advantageous position, depending on where she took the shuttle.

He decided to wait it out. After all, the hole certainly wasn't going anywhere.

**Cockpit, Stealth Shuttle:**

The Brill brothers visited Opal to report the extent of the damage, but the conversation tat ensued between the two parties was much too violent to be recorded in full. It began with Opal saying:

"What happened to the booty box? Come on, now. You can tell me, Merv. Naturally, I anticipated that there would be some damage, but it shouldn't be anything too serious..."

And then later:

"Excuse me, _what_ exactly was destroyed by the heat? You need to speak up, Scant. It's terribly rude to whisper at the end of your sentences."

Then, Scant spoke and there came a long, horrible silence. After that, the exchange became too emotionally scarring for it to be written down.

For the story to proceed, it is necessary to know couple things: Merv and Scant _did_ end up escaping alive, the remaining truffles (which were mostly soup) were being refrozen in the ship's refrigerator, and once Opal calmed down, she was able to think clearly and plot evilly again.

While she was checking on a box of truffles in the freezer, Opal began to muse, "We need to fix the ship, but we can't risk flying back through the tunnels. We'll burn. And the elf isn't going to last long if we go much further down. We need raw materials…"

Scant pretended to be paying very close attention, but something more interesting out the window caught his eye.

"…but I can't get to any of my warehouses without losing altitude. But where else is there stealth ore?"

Panting, Merv entered the cockpit with a dripping box of truffles and made his way towards the freezer.

"Miss…Koboi... This is the only…other one that wasn't," he took a deep breath, "…completely melted."

Opal turned around.

"You fool! My very expensive truffles are dripping on my very expensive flooring! Clean it immediately!" She quickly returned to her previous idea. "…though, he may have some. And he may have metal. It would make sense that there would be extra…"

Whatever Scant was watching evidently had become extremely intriguing. He no longer hid the fact that he hadn't been paying attention to Koboi's erratic thought process. Instead, he pressed his nose up to the side of the glass window with his mouth open.

"And then…there's that elf, too…" Merv tried to catch Opal's attention, "He's…still down there."

Opal faced Merv angrily and gave him a disgusted glare. "You smell. Whatever have you been _doing_? I refuse to tolerate smelly underlings. It's bad for my image. You will fix that stench as soon as the floor has been mopped. As for Julius," she paused and frowned. "What is he doing, anyway? Groveling for mercy and begging to come into the air-conditioned cockpit, I hope?"

Merv shook his head.

"He just…put on that...helmet and went as…far away from the hole…as possible."

"The broken helmet?"

Merv nodded. Scant yelped.

"And why exactly are you spoiling my air with that atrocious noise?" Opal glanced at the floor. "Merv! I told you to clean that spill!"

Scant turned, lily-white and shaking, from the window. "M-Miss Koboi? It's gotten really cold, hasn't it?"

"So? We're in air-conditioning, you imbecile."

"I meant, o-outside…"

Opal sighed. "Fine. Yes, the thermostat readings from the outside are a lot colder."

"W-Well, we're in a m-magma chute, right?"

"Yes, Scant, we are in a magma chute. Merv, you missed a spot. Get to the point."

Scant twiddled his thumbs. "Isn't the c-coldest t-time in a magma chute…"

"…right before…the next flare?" Merv finished.

A low, rumbling tremor from below was their answer.

At the same time, a resounding "D'Arvit!" echoed up from the booty box.

* * *

Author's Note: _Sorry to everyone who waited forever for this to come out. (forgive me!) I'm already working on Chapter 6 now that mid-terms are over and my computer's being okay. Thanks for all your support and reviews! I hope this was worth the wait.  
_

_--Trypt  
_


	6. Commander, Lightly Broiled

The Julius Deception

Or, "A Factual Description of What on Earth Happened to the Commander"

"Okay, brother. This is it. No turning back. Are we in? Do we want Opal Koboi back?"

-- Mervall Brill

* * *

A sea of molten rock fanned out at the bottom of the chute and began to churn and whirl ominously. Tremors shook the area and loose rocks tumbled down from the walls, dissolving into the red, burning mass. Above the magma, a shuttle, frozen in mid-air, seemed oblivious to the impending doom about to engulf it. 

Well, almost oblivious.

"We're going…to die."

Merv had quickly abandoned all hopes for a clean getaway, or rather, any getaway.

Opal, on the other hand, wasn't willing to give in so easily. After all, becoming a famous evil genius meant that you had to stay alive long enough for your dastardly plan to be carried out. If you died, then it was just as good as telling the hero that you surrendered. And above all things, Opal Koboi _never_ surrendered.

"Merv, Scant! Take the auxillary controls. Don't touch _anything_." And with that, Opal situated herself in the pilot's seat while the Brill brothers sat down and were busily trying to figure out how they could man the controls without touching them.

Another rumble shook the craft. Opal tightened her fingers around the joysticks on the main controls and began to formulate her plan.

**Stealth Shuttle, Booty Box:**

Root waited down below, expecting the engines to kick in at any moment. Granted, it was pretty boring, but there really wasn't much else to do, seeing as the bonds on his wrists hadn't melted yet. Lili Frond dutifully reported the increase in temperature as the magma began to simmer and sizzle. It had been a very good idea for him to put his helmet on when he had, judging by the puddles of truffles which were…boiling?

"D'Arvit." This couldn't possibly be healthy.

"The temperature has now reached…" There was a pause as the computer formed the number from the voice clips it had: "One hundred…twenty-two…point five seven," Another pause. "…above standard conditions. The Lower Elements Environmental Research team has declared this level unsuitable for fairy habitation…"

Well, then. This looked hopeful.

_That centaur would probably go crazy to get his hands on the data from this suit,_ Root laughed darkly to himself. Knowing that Foaly, paranoid beyond paranoid, had created it, the suit was probably recording all his data somewhere, too. Trust the pony to turn him into a guinea pig for one of his experiments. He could just picture Foaly munching on a carrot, musing '_And exactly _how_ much heat is required to meltyour commander?' _

"Oh, Foaly, when I get my hands on you…"

Root normally would have strangled the nearest object at hand, but given the steaming puddles as his only choice, he decided upon strangling the air instead.

"The Public Relations Department kindly requests that you refrain from any homicidal actions towards your colleagues and/or co-workers. It does not put an appealing face on the justice system. Thank you."

Frond then returned to stating the temperature.

How much more could he stand of this? Not the heat-- the suit was doing a great job taking care of that. A sudden wave of dread swept through him. _Frond, I hope this suit can't read my thoughts or Foaly's going to have a field day…_

_Not thinking…I'm not thinking anything…Oh, D'Arvit, this is stupid._

Shaking the possibility of _that_ off, Root decided to investigate how much the helmet had been damaged. After all, if he was going to escape he ought to be aware of all his strengths and potential weaknesses.

"Access locator."

Frond paused mid-thermometer imitation and stated:

"Access denied. Locator is offline. You are recommended to take your helmet to Foaly for repair."

Alright, it's not as though he would have expected Koboi to leave him that edge anyway. He'd just have to call back his old tunnel skills to get him out of this one, provided Koboi stopped at a hanger in the Lower Elements. Which she would. Naturally. There was no where else for her to go…

Something nagged at the back of the commander's brain. Something that he absolutely had to remember…

But before he could do any thinking at all, a large stream of heat began to pour into the booty box, hurling the gaseous truffle droplets through the air.

"D'Arvit! That always happens right before the flare." Root said through gritted teeth. Why wasn't Koboi _doing _anything?

**Stealth Shuttle, Cockpit:**

"Um, Miss Koboi?"

"Quiet, Merv."

"B-But-"

"Scant. I need to concentrate. Shut up now."

Her voice was deadly cold. Both of the Brill brothers instantly obeyed and went back to _not_ holding the controls. Still facing the navigation screens with a creepy smile, Opal nonchalantly said:

"I'm going to wait."

They nearly fell out of their chairs.

Scant looked horror-stricken and would have crawled under his seat if Merv hadn't restrained him at the last moment. It was the cool, almost arctic way that Opal had informed them that they were in all likelihood going to die that really got them. Hench-fairies had to put up with an awful lot in their line of work: evil geniuses insulting their intelligence, being made to do grunt work, getting trounced by the hero--but _this_… it was the last straw.

"Miss Koboi, there's still time for us to escape, though! Please-"

Opal shook her head curtly, leaving no room for argument. "I've made up my mind. Belt yourselves in and stop questioning my decisions!" She muttered under her breath something unintelligible.

The Brill brothers, having lost all control of the situation, resigned themselves at last to trusting their employer. There was only so far that you could push these crazy evil-types without risking certain death. Scant was still shaking like a leaf as he fearfully addressed his twin in a whisper.

"What are we going to do? We're about to be incinerated and all she can talk about is that drill…"

Merv's head snapped up. "Did you say drill?"

"No, she did. I was just repeating what I heard."

"So she said 'drill?'"

Scant nodded.

Merv gulped and scrutinized the control panel. Sure enough, he found what he was looking for: a nearly empty fuel gage.

"See that, Scant? That's the reason. We don't have enough fuel to get…"

He trailed off as he saw a spiral of magma shooting upwards and felt the engines kick into first gear.

At this point, it is necessary to include a warning about magma flares and Opal Koboi's extreme solutions to fuel problems. Every little fairy knows that magma is intensely dangerous and that flare-diving should only be attempted by trained professionals, namely, the LEP. However, once you've been through a good few pod-engineeringcourses like Opal, you not only know that magma is dangerous (and hot), but that the resulting updraft of warm air is strong enough to propel a craft from Haven to the surface. Or, more practically, to anywhere in the fairy world.

Provided that you timed it correctly. With a normal pod, timing was important, but not absolutely critical. A pod could withstand a few seconds worth of magma. With a shuttle and a holeon its underside, your timing had better be right on cue or else you're toast.

As a perk, if somehow you survive the magma, you'll be carried directly to the surface without expending a drop of fuel.

Luckily, thanks to Opal's severe and slightly scary concentration, the stealth shuttle was safely being swept upwards on a current of hot air. The engine was also off by now: she'd turn it back on when they reached their destination.

Opal remained vigilant of the controls, tweaking the shuttle's flight plan slightly. _Top that, Captain Short_, she thought contendedly and surveyed the cockpit. Merv and Scant both still had their eyes clamped shut and were clutching the sides of their chairs. And the prisoner…

"Merv! Scant! Check on the prisoner. And go spray the booty box with some of the emergency coolants. I don't want any residual heat causing my cargo to melt."

The twins turned around, still pale from the experience.

"But Miss Koboi, it's sure to be boiling hot down there…"

"You're a fairy. You _like_ heat. Now get going. If the commander dies, I won't have a specimen to give to my dear father. Though," she paused sweetly, "he might like it better if I gave him a nice set of pixie twi-"

"Right away, Miss Koboi! On the double!" Both brothers shouted in unison. And off they trotted down the steamy steps into the booty box, not sure what would greet them, if anything.

* * *

Author's Note: 

Well, here I am again! I know, this chapter is just basically a bridge between the plot up to now, and the big escape scene (escape scene! yay!), where people escape. (nods) It'll make more sense when the next chapter comes up.

Thank you once again to all my wonderful reviewers-- it's really your feedback that makes me stay up late into the morning and finish these, sothank you for continuing to inspire me to write more and have fun with it.It'll bea long haul, but someday Holly and Julius will end up together! (cheers and waves flag)

Right. For those of you wondering about the romance element, it's coming up. Real soon. (Trust me, this hasn't gone and changed into RootOpal. xD (scary thought...)) And about Holly and Foaly, no worries-- you'll see what happens in the next chapter.

Thanks for reading, I'd love to know what you thought of this!

Trypt!


End file.
